


A New Era Has Begun

by Paresse



Category: AFK Arena (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 03:46:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18886534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paresse/pseuds/Paresse
Summary: Something is stirring. A new era is beginning. The Graveborn will soon claw from their tombs.





	A New Era Has Begun

**Author's Note:**

> LOL I didn't read Grezhul and Thoran's union lore this is now an AU where Niru raises Thoran instead of Grezhul.

The air of the tomb is still. Flickering flames crackle with magic along the walls. Dust in the air makes it thick, but those here have little need to breathe. Those that do only do so out of habit. The Graveborn whispers and fills the empty spaces, resting. Calm and quiet. But there’s a kind of excitement stirring in that quiet.  

Somewhere, a young boy laughs.

Tired, worn eyes blink open, and the man they belong to turns to look down the corridor behind him, catching a glimpse of Silvestre darting between the tunnels of the catacombs. His wife’s laughter dances through the walls a few moments later, and he sees her dress flutter behind her as she snatches the little boy up. Silvestre laughs and says something, the game of chase brought to an end. The coldness of death and the wrathful power of the Graveborn didn’t snuff the boy’s joyful spark and he can’t help but be grateful.

His family disappear around a corner, and he relaxes again, looking forward and closing his eyes again. Listening to the murmurs on the Graveborn’s silver tongue. The peace above is teetering, it hums, there will be a usurping today, new dead bodies and furious souls among them. Souls ripe for the Graveborn’s offering. It tells him no, Niru, you will not be needed now. But to wait. Even the Graveborn can’t see the future. It can only theorize and ponder the outcome.

Robes shift and unfold as his legs uncross and he stands to leave the chamber. This era of peace has been boring for the faction. At least, for those with a purpose on the battlefield and not the lap of luxury above ground. The dead don’t tend to get sick, though Niru had made plenty friends among the careless ones who forget that even the undead can be wounded. Especially when the Graveborn hoards’ roughhousing is a little more than a mortal could handle. He had more time to study, more time to research, to spend time with his family, and for that he was grateful. If the whispers were right, though, that may come to a grinding halt soon.

He slides into his chair in his study and goes over his most recent work, checking and double checking everything. Pondering sketches and rituals, re-examining Wilder anatomy, making a few small notes here and there. Time passes quickly, and it doesn’t feel like long that his study’s door swings back open and a cheerful little blue face bursts in.

“Dad! I found a cat!”

“A cat…?” His eyes go down to the little bundle in Silvestre’s arms. Oh, the poor thing is long dead, stiff and cold.

“It was in one of the cracks in the walls.” The little boy holds it out, and Niru gently takes it from him with delicate claws.

“Poor thing must have come in after a mouse and gotten lost.” He runs his hand through the fur.

“Can you bring it back? I always wanted a cat and now Mama doesn’t have to worry about allergies any more and you brought me back and--”

“Silvestre, slow down.” The little boy giggles as his father cut him off, one of Niru hands fixing a cowlick in his short hair, “Have you _asked_ your mother or did you run off to find me without her? And I’m not sure this one _can_ come back, that’s up to the Graveborn.”

“I told him to ask you.” Niru looks up and sees Shemira leaned against the door. He smiles and shrugs, looking back to Silvestre who gives him a sheepish grin.

“I suppose I can try.” He sets the corpse in his lap and focuses on it, his eyes unfocusing as he reaches his necromancy out to the little kitty’s soul, still wandering the tombs. Like coaxing a stray, he gently pulls it back towards its body.

But something in that realm sends the tomb trembling and Niru leaps back into himself, looking around. Shemira is stood up off the doorway and even Silvestre seems concerned.

He remembers with a jolt the Graveborn’s earlier grumblings. Something happened.

Gently, Niru’s claws grip the little corpse as he waits. It hangs over them like a guillotine. The Graveborn is absent suddenly, gone to investigate and take advantage of whatever happened, leaving its hoards waiting with baited breath. Niru makes himself breathe and looks back down to the cat, “Hold onto this little one, Silvestre. That spooked its spirit, and without the Graveborn to approve of it, I can’t bring them back yet anyways.” He holds the stiff body out for his son to take, “Remember what I told you about taking care of your body now that it’s dead?”

Silvestre nods, trying to focus on his dad instead of whatever that scary feeling was. That tenseness still in the air. He takes the kitty’s body and holds it close.

“Take care of this one’s body the same way.” Niru smiles, trying to ease the little boy’s anxiety, “And when the Graveborn comes back, I’ll bring it back for you, so long as the body is well preserved.”

Silvestre nods, then slowly looks back and forth between his parents, “Dad… Mama… what was that…?”

The forced smile on Niru’s face fades to an uncertain frown, “I don’t know, Silvestre...”

Shemira comes over and gently kneels next to the little boy, “Me either… but whatever it is, you know we’ll protect you.”

Silvestre manages a little giggle, “That’s why Dad brought me back!”

And Shemira nods, a smile spreading over her face under her mask at the giggle. So hopeful even under the ground, “Yes, it is…” She pulls Silvestre into a little hug, and he hugs back. But a moment later he pulls away, looking down at the kitty.

“I’m gonna go set him up a little bed…!”

And off he runs. Shemira sighs, “That… is a girl cat.” But their son is long gone. She shakes her head and goes over to her husband.

“Animals have no concept of gender.” Niru shrugs.

“Wilders and Maulers do.” Shemira giggles, a cruel lilt to the sound at her spiteful quip.

Niru shakes his head and lifts his arms to wrap around her from his seat. His head presses against her chest, “Things are about to change. I’ll be back on the field soon. I can feel it.” A content hum leaves him.

She leans down to kiss his head, “I know, love. I’ll be fighting too.” She runs her hands through his long hair, “Finally, all this anger and hatred can go into something fun.”

Niru nods, one claw gently rubbing at her back, “We won’t risk another outburst at Silvestre or each other, and the hoards will have something to occupy them.” He leans into her touch in his hair, a happy groan leaving him, “But I’ll miss moments like these.”

“We’ll have them again, love.”

He nods. And then something tugs at him. He lifts his head away, sighing, “Seems the Graveborn needs me. Someone needs rising that it can’t get on its own. Not an angry enough soul.” Shemira nods, stepping aside as Niru stands, “The body is being brought here by a new Graveborn soul.”

“I’ll go meet them halfway. If the Graveborn wants them, they must be valuable, and I can help protect the body at least until then.” Shemira decides, striding past her husband. He only nods.

“I’ll set up the main chamber.” Both leave the study, Niru closing it behind him, and they part ways without farewells.

Fresh blood he’d gathered from Lightbearers, crushed bone from Wilder ambushes gone right for the Graveborn, symbols he’d practiced a hundred thousand times… It all takes a while to set up, but not an entire night like it did when he had nothing but his own blood and a prison cell. Now all he needs was the body. He takes a moment to step back and double, then triple check everything, leaning on his scythe heavily. The door opens and he looks over, expecting to see his wife or his son, maybe even a minion, but he freezes in place instead. He knows that armor. The king’s personal guard. He narrows his eyes as he stares the man down, not yet paying attention to the body in his arms. That same armor had been present at his execution and his anger flares in his chest, sending his dead heart raging against his ribcage. He is Graveborn now, but this man… he knows this man.

His lips peel back from his teeth to snarl, but his wife comes around the man suddenly, “Niru, calm down. It’s alright, he’s Graveborn. He doesn’t care about us.” She presses her hands to his chest as his glare turns to her, “I know, I know, but I’ve already screamed at him enough for both of us. There are bigger things to deal with… The Graveborn wants you to bring back the king. There was a coup.” Niru’s eyes waver, then snap back to the body on the former Praetorian’s shoulder. Now that his tunnel vision begins to clear, he can process who that is. Thoran.

“Niru, the beloved king will be on _our side._ We won’t have to hide in tombs anymore.”

“What beloved king puts a medic to death just for finding new ways to heal?” His voice is cold, hard as the stone they stood on, but he motions to the table, “Put him there.”

The guard hesitates, wavering as he seems to process the man before him. Finally recognizing him as the mad medic, but turns to do as he is told. Niru goes maddeningly quiet as he circles the body, beginning quiet incantations and weaving the Graveborn into the body. He stops at the king’s head. He sets his scythe aside, long claws gently removing the crown and placing it aside. His green eyes waver over the face that approved his death sentence, but he finds that anger… flat. He was never afraid of death, and death is nothing but gleeful for him, now. He had been ready to face it when he was sentenced, only angry that someone as kind as the king couldn’t see that he was performing for the greater good. He sighs and runs his fingers through the man’s hair, his eyes shifting out of focus.

And he reaches. His claws search for the soul of the king until he snags into it. Sorrow, pain, despair, betrayal...Betrayal. There it was. Niru focuses on that. The Graveborn can only bring back souls with a fury to go on. So he focuses on a reason for the king to live.

Vengeance. He pulls these emotions up and past the sadness, past the rest. Until the soul is no longer weeping, but chafing at the bit to come back and rip apart any who had betrayed him. Niru’s smile slowly spreads and spreads as this happens, eyes opening to look down at the body as he sews the soul back to the body with this anger. His fingers slowly retreat from Thoran’s hair and he replaces the crown.

“It has begun.” He finally speaks. He looks up to the guard, and finds the Graveborn muttering a name into his mind. “Take him and bury him, in one of the tombs, in a shallow grave, it doesn’t matter, but bury him. In three days, he’ll awaken, you’ll have your charge back, Grezhul.” He turns to begin cleaning up. He hears more than sees Grezhul take Thoran’s body away. Shemira remains.

Quietly, she comes up behind him, her arms wrapping around him, “Things are about to change, for good.” She murmurs. And Niru sighs. Slowly, he nods his agreement. His personal grievances aside… The king and the strongest of his guard are with their faction now. With the Hypogean forces slowly rising again, the Graveborn can come back in force again to fight back against them, and to one day over take the Lightbearers.

He takes a slow breath of the dusty air and lets it back out, his eyes falling on one of the nearby torches, where fire crackles with magic.

The air is still no more.


End file.
